oieei\lyylds     |     drunk loner notes
Sunday the 13th of July 2014, 8:04am
    My hands could pass for nine thousand years old, like maybe they belong to a peat bog mummy. Clunky, splitting, engine red. Whoever adds the bleach to the sanibucket at work is out for my undoing. Americans measure in glugs, because more is better. Fucking morons. Work. Oh, fuck me. I can list all that is backwards with that counterfeit kitchen in two grumpy breaths, but it will exhaust me, and I go in for a 9 o'clock shift to hopefully fuck up breakfast and get good and fired, because I've slept so well! I woke up around fiveish with earplugs in designed for firing guns, because the mosquitos here are ferocious hissing bastards, my face and arms and feet awash in puffed bites. I've smooshed dozens between my mangled paws since waking and all have been bloody fatties. I am drinking coffee out of a "World's Nicest Grandma!" mug, complete with #1 trophy decal, the same one I used to pour boxed wine into and text D'Alessio about my pride in maintaining classy morning drunkenness, the nice flow into afternoon drinks, wasted by 1. This burbly dope goulash of hormones has made me not miss booze so much, but if I close my eyes and groan I can almost feel all my past drunken states and I salivate a tad. Ganachakra. February, happen sooner. I just hope my baby has a sense of humor, healthy is too common a motherly wish; those extra toes is where all the funny comes from, maybe. I will smoke until I grow lumpier, then, hard candies and lots of chewy stick shaped doohickeys for comfort. I need a good hard slap in the face.

Love, Jackie


Thursday the 3rd of July 2014, 11:48pm
Lists of fluctuating emphasis,


1. Items in purse that withstood the Rabinowitz Courthouse security scanner yesterday,
    -3 pinecones, collected from the ground near Hot Licks on College Rd
    -Prenatal vitamins
    -Spoon that had been used for honey yogurt weeks earlier
    -Neon green party flute from Missi's birthday in May. Life begins at forty
    -6oz Dole pineapple juice, tinged with rust, purchased at Fox General Store when the rain fell and fell
    -Raveling embroidery floss darkened by tobacco flecks, will make bracelets for Russell's grandchildren
    -Dogeared Junot Diaz, POOR OSCAR
    -Key necklace from C, bundled very tight, because
    -Pereline brass lighter, unusable
    -handful of cinnamon toothpicks
    -4 chapsticks, 3 bustokens, 2 nailfiles, 1 loose OB tampon
Basically, my purse made me look insane, and also, I am nesting in small ways. Oh, and I set off the metal detector with my godawful hair


2. Some transmutations,
    -this webspace (?) / myself, now equals Sobriety City! Uh, congratulations
    -sex becoming more and more silly, banal, lumbering, nonessential
    -the taste and smell and appearance of all matter; memory structure and splendor of detail; each waking second resembles LSD
    -the last is a secret


3. Some dumpfinds,
    -Justin black lace-up boots
    -Deck of Gypsy Witch fortune telling playing cards
    -Moccasins, 2 pairs, one of which makes me feel Sherwoodian, the other, like a grandmother
    -The Bear's Toothache, given to Nicholas
    -Defaced paperbacks, at least 100+ in a garbage sack, some titles fished out, with a random sentence: Ape and Essence Copulation resulted in population—with a vengeance!, New York After Dark But it was sex with a bite, unholy with delights. It was exhibitionistic, educational, ritualistic, Notorious Ladies of the Frontier No vulgarity permitted in this house, Painless Childbirth Notice that I said "fully awake"


4. Reduction of month into snippet into nothing,
I. JAN strained, kerosene infused, broken, questionable
II. FEB Steel Reserve, gin+oj, Cooper's psychosis, acidic
III. MAR Blue Loon (Gloom), too many shooters to count, crass, melty
IV. APR left Lungs, relief, leaves a'buddin
V. MAY Elliott Hwy alchemy, Trapper Creek Bluegrass
VI. JUN a lot of walking, I'll chop you down like an old dead tree

Love, Jackie


Friday the 20th of June 2014, 3:33am
    Lord have mercy, christ have mercy; Hail Mary, full of grace, the kids are into Satan. Heartfelt. I am pissing all the time, meaning only one thing: potential pregnancy, month-in. Wanted? Perhaps. It; him, her, both, either, or; will give me a reason to dry up, grow up, take as gospel. Love. Dream into the ocean. My heart sinks to my belly & I forget all those things I despise. I am back to the cold perfect lake, drunkish on a black box all by my lonesome, because Ma went to bed for an early shift & I am listening to Otis Redding, A Change is Gonna Come, on gchat with my bestest friend in Bellingham, talking about Lovecraftian nerdy D&D shit, and telepathic connections with fatty ass freckled flying squirrels who eat pumpkin seeds from the hand of god with nimble pink fingers, and Dharma Wheels on pretty cheeky faces, and I want to cry for an eternity into the softest, cushiest, most feminine and furry of chests because I am so, so happy to be Home, home, where everything makes the most sense, where I curl up like a pill bug, and not a bad word was ever uttered. It is misty and ethereal and damn near heavenly. I will come back later, because this bleary page needs updating from the depths of Jones hell, and I am a drunk ass broke ass dirty ass loose sutures ass scroungy ass not bleeding enough ass, and I have stories to tell. I missed you, I missed you, oh fuck. This whole evening feels like a Jason Molina song. I hope you all are well.

Love, Jackie


Friday the 31st of January 2014, 8:08am
    Internet, I will come back to you, dunno when, I am off to live in a lopsided cabin without water or electricity. Pretty awful and exciting and smelly. I will think of you fondly, et cetera. Oh yeah, I turned twenty six on the 26th. Bag o bones, purple birthday flowers, a dreamcatcher, a snoring boyfriend.

Love, Jackie


Tuesday the 21st of January 2014, 9:41pm
    Malbec lips! G, BM, AM, C. Finally returning phonecalls, making me feel awfully ill, maybe believing there are people who exist for the sole purpose of rupturing the buoyancy of your silly brittle heart. Ils sont tout simplement des paresseux. I DEMAND UNCONDITIONAL LOVE AND COMPLETE FREEDOM. THAT IS WHY I AM TERRIBLE. Thinking, gosh, all my old LiveJournal friends are super successful! What the fuck am I doing? Ugh, the internet. I feel sloppy. Sloppy and inept but tolerable and hushed. Wrong, overall. Nephew writing down dinner marinade ingredients, to show his father that My Aunt is Nourishing and Cares About Flavor Unlike That Shithole Restaurant You Take Me To; mae ploy, braggs, soy & fish & chili sauce, sriracha, worchestershire, ginger (lots), garlic. Sesame oil. Flat iron steak, broccoli, carrots, mushroom, onion, celery, bamboo shoots. Chewy brown rice (blown lice). Best stir fry I ever wrapped my picky lips around, tipsy cookery. Teaching him card games, blackjack and snerts and poker, unusually insightful youngin'. Before bed, read to him Eeyore has a birthday and gets two presents, and a story about a king who plants a tulip. And Sendak. Earlier, ma's tomatoey cabbage soup. Irish soda bread. How perfect and dusty the sky looked today. How I'm wasting so much time. How I Have To Leave This House Immediately. That This is Serious & I've Made My Last Excuse. Okay, no more capitals.

Love, Jackie


Friday the 17th of January 2014, 2:43pm
    There is a bird or squirrel or alien or something making a home in the retired Christmas tree. Every time I go near where it's propped all dead into the bank, the branches chatter either in a benign hi! or get off my lawn sort of pissy reproach, and, by instinct, or maybe from imagining the bunny from Monty Python, I shield my face like a jackass baby. It is thirty degrees outside, the stupid snow is moist for once and I'm kinda under some spell ordering me to roll a snowman; winter cheer. Getting heaps of mail from Johnny, so much mail I almost want to puke, tenderly. Four more postcards (aster, cosmos, digitalis and calendula SEED PACKET stamps, oh god, mushy and precious) sent while he was in Tennessee. The heading of one, written on the back of a bar menu: Eggroll, yo daddy let you date? Soooo, I have to make it to Chattanooga so I can order quail egg crostinis for $7, maybe then I'll stop eating this pistachio pudding I whisked with expired milk.

Love, Jackie


Wednesday the 15th of January 2014, 11:12pm
    Oh, Johnny. These lil gems were numbered 1, 2 and 3, with an ellipses and arrow pointing to a fourth, which wasn't in the mailbox. Fancy round stamps. The handwriting, I kept thinking. Ahhh, I MISS HIM. I will keep the postcards underneath my pillow in a forlorn act of girlish anguish, next to the medicine bag with his baby blonde dreadlock inside, my amethyst pendant from Justin the warlock, Guatemalan worry dolls, flattenend mugwort and broken guitar strings.

Some lists,

    3 recent tasty things I made, 2 to remind me I went to culinary school:
    -The hammiest split pea soup, made buttery sweet with mirepoix sweated just-so
    -Pineapple upside down cake with rum, baked in a castiron
    -Inedible, but more paper crafts. This one's for Beau, who is asking me to return to the great and evil Facebook and register myself as Jäckket Baṭt

    Movies Johnny & I watched together between December 2012–Dec '13, probably incomplete; many seen without the other, previously. Either one of us fell asleep during play as a rule, and there was always, always stovetop popcorn and hard cider:
loved it / hated it
-Batman (1989)
-The Princess Bride (1987)
-Legends of the Fall (1994)
-Season 1: Deadwood (2004)
-Django Unchained (2012)
-The Point (1971)
-Rosemary's Baby (1968)
-The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover (1989)
-Bernie (2011)
-200 Cigarettes (1999)
-Punch-Drunk Love (2002)
-O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)
-True Grit (2010)
-The Big Lebowski (1998)
-No Country For Old Men (2007)
-Paul (2011)
-Pirate Radio (2009)
-Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011)
-Visioneers (2008)
-The Untouchables (1987)
-Twelve Monkeys (1995)
-Re-Animator (1985)
-The Machinist (2004)
-Porn Star: The Legend of Ron Jeremy (2001)
-The Filth and the Fury (2000)
-Midnight in Paris (2011)
-The Who Live at the Isle of Wight (1970)
-Being John Malkovich (1999)
-The Shawshank Redemption (1994)
-Mystic River (2003)
-The Departed (2006)
-Lincoln (2012)
-Heavy Metal (1981)
-Blade Runner (1984)
-Catfish (2010)
-Craigslist Joe (2012)
-The Omen (1976)
-The Red Balloon (1956)
-Step Brothers (2008)
-Ted (2012)
-Moon (2009)
-Broken Flowers (2005)
-High Art (1998)
-It (1990)
-Willard (2003)
-Don't Go Into the Woods (2010)
-The Last Ride (2012)
-American Beauty (1999)
-Season 1: Portlandia (2011)
-Season 1: Bob's Burgers (2011)
-Season 1: The League (2009)
-The Squid and the Whale (2005)
-Cedar Rapids (2011)
-The Extra Man (2010)
-Shame (2011)
-Mary and Max (2009)
-The Incredible Burt Wonderstone (2013)
-Sleepy Hollow (1999)
-The Imposter (2012)
-Rust and Bone (2012)
-Dreams of a Life (2011)
-Full Metal Jacket (1987)
-Skyfall (2012)
-The Dark Knight Rises (2012)
-The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012)
-Wild at Heart (1990)
-Star Wars (1977)
-The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
-Return of the Jedi (1983)
-Seven Psychopaths (2012)
-Season 1: Louie (2010)
-True Romance (1993)
-Wrong (2012)
-Princess Mononoke (1997)
-Dead Man (1995)
-Man on Wire (2008)
-Searching for Sugar Man (2012)
-The Bothersome Man (2006)
-Dirty Pictures (2010)
-Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011)
-Young Adult (2011)
-Antichrist (2009)
-Killing Them Softly (2012)
-The Warriors (1979)
-Season 1: Nip/Tuck (2003)
-I'm Still Here (2010)
-Barton Fink (1991)
-El Topo (1970)
-Robot & Frank (2012)
-Argo (2012)
-Walt Disney's Robin Hood (1973)
-Walt Disney's Pinocchio (1940)
-Walt Disney's Peter Pan (1953)
-A Spinal Tap Reunion (1992)
    I miss ETZ Video a lot. The dude who worked there had Tim Burton hair, but more beautiful.
    The hole that began in my elbow has inched its thready maroon tatters to my cuff; unraveling wrist. Oh, dear.
    Found some sad grape tomatoes in the backseat of the car. Frozen, forgotten. Still in package, bright, bright red.
    Yesterday, moscato. Today, merlot.

Love, Jackie


Saturday the 11th of January 2014, 12:16pm
    In addition to purple chenille smoking gloves, my mother brought home a 13.5 lb parcel of Royal Kreem crackers, a gift from a man by the name of Alexey Jimmie. No one but me thinks any of this is funny. Shelf-life: 10-15 years. I will take the bulky box as an oracle, that A Disaster Approaches.
    Text sequence between Me & Beau in which we share symmetrically cheerless evening recaps:
>> M: Jan 10, 12:32 pm i dreamt i was shining tom waits' boots, and i kept saying to him, "boy! you're HANDSOME!"

<< B: Jan 10, 12:34 pm Jacky tries to fuck tom waits when she sleeps

>> M: Jan 10, 12:35 pm /shrug. there was ~something~ about him

<< B: Jan 10, 12:50 pm I got so fucked up last night, all by myself pretty much. After I got home from the paradise inn hookerhouse / bar

>> M: Jan 10, 12:54 pm sounds grand. last night i drank a bunch of ipas and put on my dead grandmother's clothes

<< B: Jan 10, 12:55 pm Gahahahah

    Waking up with the curtains drawn makes me really, really grumpy, and postliminary catnaps happen so easy. Come back, you bastard sun. Lackluster arctic circle! Droughty snow! Why why why.
    (B)oozin' You Off My Mind, zombies.

Love, Jackie


Thursday the 9th of January 2014, 7:36pm
    My nephew turned ten yesterday. Gave him my old Dahl and Silverstein. I remember newborn him. Wagon red hair. Little foot so crooked from being tucked up all weird in the womb, anchored to his comfortable spot; the tiny cast to straighten his jelly bones. When he learned how to ride a bike — age three, no training wheels, still in diapers — the image of him wobbling down the driveway at top speed is imprinted so deeply in my heart that my eyes leak with syrupy auntie hilarity at the memory. Sweetest boy alive! So sweet, he accepted the friendship bracelet I made him. Arrowhead, colors: black, orange, green, red.
    The wild rabbits have found the frozen compost pile. Good for them.
    There was a poor Floridian kid on /x/ the other day who misspelled fronds, as in palm fronds, as frawms. Much collaborative board lulz ensued, and someone, bless them, made a "It was a dark and frawmy night" Snoopy jpg. God, I have never felt lonelier.
    The best part about SymphonyCast on npr is all the failed muffled throat-clearing sounds/paper rufflage. The piano is okay.
    I figured that if I cleaned the house for mother, she will overlook the houseplants I've slain. It is glimmering in here, otherwise.
    Might go and bum in Anchorage till spring? Eh. Eh. Dunno. Fack.
    Sherbet + 7Up.

Love, Jackie


Saturday the 4th of January 2014, 9:24am
    When you stink to high heaven because you've guzzled the last of your New Years Jameson, and you have a stack of scraps from fashion magazines of yore, and you're LISTENING TO FIONA APPLE, you make this for your very gay ex from your early 20s, when you remember the psilocybin and the mythos and the lunacy and the love, as an apology for losing his painting and his chef notes when you were evicted from your shitty apartment in the fall after The Bad Summer because you were poor and malnourished and misunderstood and SO VERY SAD, the saddest human heap. Then you begin to grieve for your past, your vanished attachments, where is everyone even at anyway, and there are not enough pretty paper bits in the world to show for it.
    Going to spend the rest of the morning dancing to Goldfrapp.

Love, Jackie


Monday the 30th of December 2013, 10:04am
    Some gross things:
    1 I think my face is held together by blackheads! Much like how when I washed Johnny's ancient skank and the fabric disintegrated, that the grime kept it intact
    2 A few mornings ago, my labia majora molted, like a cicada, or a rattlesnake. Hormornal hullabaloo
    3 Maxwellhouse original roast
    3.5 Did anyone listen to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me yesterday? The Keith Richards teatree oil/vicks vaporub bit almost made me piss myself
    4 Erica mistakenly making mac and cheese with vanilla flavored soymilk
    5 I left a brick of tillamook on the counter overnight, half asleep snacking. Dairy sweat
    6 How much I love craigslist missed connections. For example:
"Are we a missed connection or do we need to start a new category for connections that hit then miss and missing and then hit like a missile, then get missed and misty and are always a bit (bite?) of a mystery?

miss you."
/end
    This is a good song.

Love, Jackie


Thursday the 26th of December 2013, 8:30am
    Waking up is easy, even fun, when I remember there's Baileys to glug-glug into my coffee, and a tin of these beauts, whose resemblance to those twisty rawhide dog treats alarms me.
    Yesterday, 11 pounds of ham. Meaty scrambled eggs and sandwiches forever.
    In my dream, Ty Segall held my hand beside a coastal shanty town and told me Stepan Trofimovich was a saint and I said But I'm seasick.
    Woodpile is dwindling. Eyeglasses are missing right temple.
    Back to bed.

Love, Jackie


Monday the 23rd of December 2013, 9:46pm
    My new Himalayan salt lamp is pleasant. I opened Christmas gifts from my mother a day early, for she is off to the village to bury her mother, who passed away this morning. Jennie, my Yu'pik grandmother, was 84. I'm alone with far too much candy, jordan almonds and Australian liquorice. About to pour the settlings of five boxed wines into a mug. Here's to a less intoxicated new year.

Love, Jackie


Sunday the 22nd of December 2013, 6:28pm
    Self-dreading neglect hair. I am okay with this. Things eaten today: a can of garbanzo beans, banana-funmallow confetti jello (flavor: red). Empty pantry. Full drink. Bota Box mini merlot. Radish is a drug addict, just like his ma. He will prance after me when I shake his pouch of nip. Earlier I tricked him into following a sack of wasabi dry roasted edamame. Also, I found his twin.
    An old coworker has been appearing in my dreams. In real life, this man was unutterably handsome to me, and in my dreamscape, I have it worse. It's like a thematic hoax, despite him being a central point, his character's tied to the corner of my vision. I will notice him in the distance, motioning in my direction, and I will immediately glance at my feet, bashfully twitchy. I am always wearing something white and it is likely modified chef clothes. There is something very sweet in the nature of his visits, there is never a hello, only the gaze. This is what a crush feels like when you don't act on it, well kept, virginal.
    For Mr Lungs' birthday, I scribbled a towering cake materializing from a dumpster, with a ladder and stick-figure Johnny with messy locks and sat-on hat and batty grin. He turned 29 somewhere in the deep south the day before solstice. The person I love the most.
    Charmin and I on the phone for almost two hours. He talked and talked and talked. About drugs/whiskey, about Liz/relationships, about music/rhythm, about Alaska/community, about forgiving/alleviation. He left enough room for frank response, like I understand, Exactly, But why? and I miss you, too.
    Homemade eggnog.

Love, Jackie


Monday the 16th of December 2013, 3:31pm
    Oh, wow. Me, talented abandoner. Smoking cigarettes at forty below zero feels extra lethal. Ranch flavored sunflower seeds, learning the refinement of spitting shells into a cup. Couch bed. Father's 64th birthday, mother's 59th. Old grumps. Visit from Chopin's ghost during meditation? The dream where ten ramshackle houses are glued together at odd seams and I wander, wander. Bad hair. Johnny over for Thanksgiving, he brought herbs and cherry pie and affection and the promise of postcard writing. Small parting gifts, a stone shaped like a pick, a sand dollar for luck, Saucy Yoda shirt, the wooden spliff man, film for Dillon. Journey to the End of the Night and Celine and hoping he and I will be warmly disaffected friends in some other life. Lots of delta blues, stoner rock. Haven't been high since October, when Biz, Trey, and Dante swung by on their way to Canada. Black Box and chess and circle of fifths and mother's Yamaha acoustic brought to life. Earthly possessions condensed into a box, burnt the rest. Halted, devising. Maybe will see Noah in January, in Bellingham, and Maggie says there's room for me in a casino kitchen, ha. Kyle leaving for Spain. RIP Todd. Texts from Sean, on how to escape: "have you tried tunneling?" Tunneling, of course. Cashier Zak with a windbag biology degree insisting I attend college, laughing in his face, I'm a rotten, scattered student, you see. Sister and I speaking in Eckhart Tolle's flat, tranquil voice, or, in strained native, jaw tight, lispy. Nicholas is crawling. Paper snowflakes hung with dental floss for Aiden, in Erica's new blue house. Held together with a slew of caffeine, daydreams, personal theories. Almost mended heart. Train your heart like a dog. The moonrise, right now, holy shit.

Love, Jackie


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